First Steps
by Please.Insert.Name
Summary: This truly is a selfish act, but with the words of Elizabeth Mason ringing in his ears, he manages to convince himself it is the right thing to do.


He knows he will regret this. Regret being here. Regret getting this bloody assignment in the first place. He inhales. The warm summer air bringing no warm to his frozen body.

He is at a crossroads. Left holds self-respect, dignity. Right holds eternal damnation.

He goes right.

The stench of those dead and dying assaults his sensitive nostrils. It is an odd odour. Although dying is an unnatural experience in the first place.

As he walks through the wards, past the makeshift beds that house their doomed humans, he hums to himself. The tune is jaunty. His mind is anything but.

He knows they appreciate this. Make them feel they are only here for some trivial cause, not one step away from Death's door. The carefree manner he exudes takes away the pain from dying, makes a smile grace their chapped and dry lips. It's a small thing, but even in here acts such as that are appreciated.

He stops at the foot of a nondescript bed.

There are no nametags here. He knows everyone personally, and it is with sad eyes he looks down on the body of Edward Mason.

He was a handsome boy. Copper hair glinting in the candlelight, his well-toned chest heaving the with strain each breath was. However, it wasn't this that made him stare.

Brilliant green eyes gazed at back at him, they were covered in a thin layer of mist, the fever taking hold of his once fit body. Regardless, Carlisle thought he saw recognition.

"M-Mother?" Edward rasped, his voice reduced to a croak, his final minutes ticking away.

"I am sorry child," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed.

The idea itself was laughable. This was the ward for the dying, those too far gone for any hope to remain. No one would come here willingly.

Bile rose in his throat as he created the same wounds on Edward as he himself had carried for centuries. The boy seemed not to notice, so deteriorated was his condition. As the venom started to spread, he whimpered, the strangled cry pitiful, and reminding the Doctor how close he had indeed been to death.

He told himself he had done a good deed. He had saved him. It was what Elizabeth wanted.

But was it what _he _wanted? He wouldn't have chosen this existence if he had the choice, and now he had just condemned another to the same fate.

Revulsion swept through him, and he pulled at his hair in agitation, as Edward's body writhed before him, the fire burning through his veins in the same way Carlisle couldn't and wouldn't forget for as long as he existed.

Bundling the boy up in his blankets, he carried him easily out of the hospital, the other patients too delirious to even register the momentous event that had just transpired.

He was running, the dead weight in his hands reminding him as much of what he had done as his traitorous thoughts.

He could forget it. He could leave him, let him figure out this life as he had done. Ultimately he could forget about him. He wouldn't be his responsibility.

But he couldn't. He was _his_responsibility, and he had already gone too far to back out. It was his duty to care for him. His penance if you like. And maybe over time he could forgive himself, although he felt that was hoping for too much, having experienced the rage at his creator for years after he was turned.

Edward groaned, his throat too sore to scream, but Carlisle could hear the pain in even that small sound.

Forgiveness was definitely off the cards.

For days he tormented himself. Surely it was taking too long? He had done something wrong, condemned him to a worse death than that given by the Influenza.

But then, finally, mercifully, he heard a stillness upstairs. Gone were the screams that pierced his ears. He could no longer hear the struggle the boy made, under the delusion he could run away from the pain.

It was in a second he was up the stairs.

It was in two he was in the room, gazing at his creation.

It was in three he took the first step towards forgiveness, as he finally registered Edward's first words to him.

_"Thank you."_

* * *

_A/N: This is my first Twilight fanfiction, and I really have no idea where it came from! I hope the characters seem alright, and if there are any details that are wrong please tell me, as it has been years since I've read the books! Anyway, any feedback you chose to give would be appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight. :(_


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